


The Light of the Night

by onlyacoffee



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Modern Era, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, and all that cute stuff, or is it really platonic?, we just do not know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyacoffee/pseuds/onlyacoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[written for Asexy April, ace!Enjolras/Combeferre]</p><p>It was June, a warm, long, full day, the kind of days that happened all too often where they did not see each other until they were both home, busy as they were with their own projects. Enjolras  welcomed him home with a kiss on the cheek, which turned into a deeper kiss on the lips, which in turn became a quiet dinner, then a bath, and they fell asleep together, naked and clean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light of the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [butnotmany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butnotmany/gifts).



> I am fully aware of the debate in fandom between people who read Enjolras as queer and those who read him as asexual. This is in no way meant to take a side, or discredit any interpretation of his character! I, myself, have no set headcanon for his sexuality. In this one, he can probably be considered asexual and homo(or bi) romantic, so there you go.
> 
> Written, again, for Asexy April, this time as a prompt from Roe (butnotmany). Sadly, I failed a little at their prompt, but there still ace!Enjolras, and Combeferre being partners. There also kissing! Can't go wrong with kissing, right?

It was June, a warm, long, full day, the kind of days that happened all too often where they did not see each other until they were both home, busy as they were with their own projects. Combeferre had been with Feuilly until late, volunteering at the public library to help teach children with learning difficulties. By the time he had left, a hand clasped on his friend’s shoulder and a warm “goodbye” answered by a grateful smile, the sun had set, and his eyes were sore as he walked the three miles to the apartment he shared with Enjolras.

Enjolras had welcomed him home with a kiss on the cheek, which turned into a deeper kiss on the lips, which in turn became a quiet dinner, during which they quietly discussed the day’s events (Enjolras had taken summer classes, and he was almost bored with them; but his thesis was coming along at a satisfactory pace, and he was pleased with the results so far. Combeferre nodded, as he always did, honestly proud of his partner’s work. Enjolras would change things someday, he really would, and as Combeferre told him that, Enjolras’ eyes lit up, and Combeferre felt his heart beat just a little faster.)

They took a bath together and they went to bed as they always did, naked and clean, and Combeferre fell asleep the moment his head had touched the pillow.

\---

Combeferre woke up, dazed and content, his head comfortably resting against Enjolras’ hip. On the bedside table, a small lamp still bathed the room in a warm light, and he could feel long fingers woven through his hair. Enjolras was still awake, then, Combeferre deduced, a moment before lifting his eyes and looking at his companion. The other man was reading, a thick volume on the history of the resistance in Germany during the Second World War (he couldn’t read the title, not without his glasses, but the book had barely left Enjolras’ hand in the week since he had acquired it).

Combeferre smiled softly and stifled a yawn.

“What time is it?” he asked, voice still rough with sleep.

“Nearly three, I think” Enjolras whispered back. There was no need to be quiet, of course, but Enjolras rarely _was_ quiet, even when the situation warranted it. His natural voice just carried, and he couldn’t come into a room without being noticed. Combeferre normally admired that in his friend, but he also liked the way his voice sounded then, not as fiery and aloof as the sun of the day light, but warm, soothing and personal, like a chimney fire. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Combeferre blinked, frowning at his hazy surroundings. “Enjolras… did you even try?”

Enjolras looked away from his book and gazed down at him. Even though his face looked as healthy as ever, his skin given an almost golden glow in the bedside lamp’s light, Combeferre, even without his glasses, could notice the small signs that betrayed Enjolras’ state: the hunched shoulders, the way his eyebrows knit together, the way his lips were pale and pinched. 

“I was watching you,” Enjolras said, as if it excused his own exhaustion. “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to disturb you. You looked as if you needed it, my friend.”

“So do you, love,” Combeferre groaned quietly as he left the warmth of Enjolras’ skin and his muscles slowly awoke as he sat up.

“I know.” In the light of the night, Enjolras’ blue eyes looked different, too. Younger. Not exactly vulnerable, no – even with him, Enjolras rarely let himself appear vulnerable, it just wasn’t in his character, but lighter, less guarded, but as bright as even when he leaned closer and kissed him, gently at first, then growing deep and intimate. Combeferre raised a hand to cup the back of the other’s neck, massaging the tense muscles, and Enjolras’ arm wrapped around Combeferre’s waist. The contact of their naked skin against the other’s aroused neither of them – as it never had aroused Enjolras, and Combeferre had understood and stopped asking a long, long time ago. In the familiar safety of the embrace, Enjolras grew more relaxed, and Combeferre more certain, until they broke away, their faces alight and smiling.

“Do you want me to help?” Combeferre murmured quietly against his partner’s neck.

“I think I would like it very much, yes, ” Enjolras nodded, still smiling. Combeferre, almost reluctantly, pushed himself away to grab his glasses on the table.

“Then let me?” he gently took the book from him friend’s hands. “I’ll read for you.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras sighed and lay down against Combeferre, their position almost a mirror of the one they had been in earlier. He fell asleep before the first birds started singing, Combeferre’s deep, calm voice guiding him towards the welcoming darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Combeferre and Feuilly volunteering together at the public library a couple of times a week to help kids with learning difficulties, or of less privileged backgrounds, is totally my headcanon. They read to them and help them with their letters and tell them stories!
> 
> Also, this was my first time writing Enjolras, and he's, like, my favorite, for real. so I'm a little nervous! Please, please, tell me what you think! 
> 
> thank you for reading, loves! :)


End file.
